


rehearsals

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Friendship, Other, Pre-Despair, ibuki and leon fucking shred it my lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he's not certain of his destiny, but he'd like to think they're part of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rehearsals

kuwata leon hates baseball.

practice is grueling and leaves his joints in perpetual ache. he'd've quit- never _started,_ in fact -had it not been for the pressure of his father, and later, of nakajima. there's the occasional perk of being recognized for his fame, but kuwata leon _hates_ baseball; because it depletes his spare time to nothing, because his teammates' envy gets ultimately relayed as resent, because it was never his passion, only an unfortunate talent. if he could trade it, he'd do so in the beat of a breath.

specifically, he'd like to trade it for the feel of the stage beneath his feet, callouses riddling the pads of his fingers, eardrums blown out by the scream of the bass. he's never thought it a tenable dream, as his hands are meant to wrap round the base of a bat, not the neck of a gibson. but, in his latest fit of complaint across this morning's breakfast table, he'd had panacea spread over his waffles. maizono, that genius she is, told him, in that saint's voice of her; _practice makes perfect._

and he'd- well, he'd gaped, because, _hah_ , of _course_ he'd thought of that. and of _course_ he knows exactly where the band room is located; the first several stops at other classrooms had obviously been tactful.

his disastrous eye for directions does not hinder him once he lay step to the edge of the next hall. it's on the school's third floor, hidden behind a grove of empty rooms, that he hears the muffled wavelength of heavy metal scissoring the air.

the smothered volume breaks free of its lynching when he presses open the entryway. noise vibrates up his femurs. he thinks, as the feeling crawls up his chest, that this is a skill more his speed.

and, when he sees _her,_ he thinks he should have discovered this room a _long_ time ago.

the electric explorer hung over her shoulder absolutely _shreds_ ; from what he can see, it's dolled up in paint of raven and bloody scarlet. a faded decal stuck below the bridge pins shouts at him, _minna saikou!!_ in a font near impossible to decipher.

in all the rock shows he's seen telecasted, he's never seen a performer so eccentric.

" _yow!"_ she bleats over the final lingering chord. her strumming hand whips up into a showing of two fingers to the audience. the audience, which he just now realizes exists from the somnolent applause.

"nice!" the single spectator praises, sprawled back on a folding chair. leon has to wonder what planet this guy hails from, as he's sure pink hair and shark teeth aren't native to earth.

"thank you thank you! glad you liked it!" the musician captures his attention again. "and what did _you_ think of ibuki's heart-pounding performance, doorway lurker?"

leon's stance falters. his lips drawl around a strangled noise he's sure makes him sound braindead, and he nearly flatlines when she pounces from the edge of the stage to saunter his way.

heat niggles him at the way she sticks her nose centimeters from his face, peering at him as if to size him up. her eyes narrow. "ibuki's never seen you around before...you must be a teeny tiny first year."

he doesn't point out the fact that he's taller than her. "...yeah, i'm a first year. the name's kuwata."

"and?"

" _and?"_ the inquiry screws his expression. "and, uh...i thought your song was pretty cool."

"in that case," she grins, gripping his hand in a vigorous single shake. " _puh-leased_ to meet you, kuwata-chan! i'm ibuki!" she turns once around. her hands cup around her mouth, from which she shouts in comic hyperbole of distance, "and that over there's my main man, kazuichi-chan! hey-o, kazukazu!"

"souda," he tells leon, lifting a hand in greeting.

"uh, no thanks, i'm good," leon says back, pinching his brows together like it's the most bizarre thing he's ever heard.

beside him, ibuki howls some cackley-laughter noise, and slaps him in the bicep. "oh, he's got jokes! you'll fit right in here, kuwa-chan. come on in."

leon wants to say that, no, he doesn't have jokes, but the second part draws his mouth into a curve; it's nice to feel wanted.

the acoustics in the room keep her voice a bellow even after she's turned away toward the stage again. "what brings ya 'round these parts? like ibuki said, i've never seen your mug before. taken a sudden interest in my super special shredding skills?"

"eh, kinda," he shrugs, placing himself two seats away from the weirdo who'd offered him a soft drink. "i play a bit, myself, actually."

ibuki hefts herself to sit on the ledge, feet swinging against the short wall. her head tilts left and she smiles goofy-crooked at him. "i think you'd make the perfect rockstar, with a get-up like _that_."

leon isn't sure if it's a compliment, isn't sure if he should thank her, but never gets the chance to solve either. her sneakers bounce her up to the stage again, where the guitar strap reunites with her neck. "ibuki's got another guitar," she says, idly tuning without glancing at the strings. "wanna jam?"

this is not the kind of spotlight he'd always envisioned; both ibuki and kazuichi bore their stares into him, anticipating his answer, and he'd look a little bitch if he said no. so, his first time holding an instrument will be before a professional rock god's acuity. no sweat.

"you're a leftie?" and she sounds a mix of surprised and excited. leon stands beside her, fender pointed rightward, blank look prominent on his face. he's not a _leftie_ when he writes or draws or pitches, but like hell is he going to make a fool of himself by turning the guitar the opposite way now; ambidextrousness doesn't seem all too daunting an accomplishment.

ibuki spits a hollered commencement, and brings her fingers to the strings. they halt at a mild " _wait!"_ to her side. she turns her head his way, question scrawled over her face.

leon takes on sheepish glow. "...i don't know any of your songs."

a blink precedes her smirk. "that's 'kay-'kay! you can follow along, right?" her hand cascades once in a strum. "jump in when i hit the first arpeggio."

_arpe-what-in-the-fuck-io?_ he glances over to her, silent and stilled, as her fingers work magic. a symphony gushes from the amplifier behind her feet. early wailing verses entrance him far enough to miss his cue, evidently; she urges him with a nod of her head, and a laugh once he fumbles to comply.

astonishing as it may be, the rhythm's less complex than he'd imagined. with a flick of his wrist and a thrust to a hip, he thinks he may be cut out for this after all. when the chorus hits, it's a one-eighty spin around. ibuki trades the ambient strokes for full on slamming digs at the chords, throbbing melody against the farthest walls. her voice is chalk on a nailboard- and the lyrics equally as anomalous. from what leon can collect, she's imploring someone kill her with their kiss, and that she'd like their blood atop her sundae. he can't decide between finding it _cool-_ or feeling sorry for whomever should end up her mate.

then she's queen of the world, center stage on her knees and pounding every note into legato honey. the cones of her hair brush the ground with how far she tips back her head, of which position she utilizes in winking at him. he grins back in sudden confidence, running his right set of digits along fingerboard base to tip. her arm swings thrice in wicked strums that leave the empty air quaking.

leon stops short to the unexpected end, one final sour note bleeding out as closure. he scowls, pleading to heaven's synods that it'd fade sans notice from either listener. seemingly, he's ultimate luck, as ibuki kicks up into a standing pose and pumps a fist upward as if nothing's askew.

"oh _yeeeah!"_ her tongue pokes out between her lips, and she's suddenly inches from him, fiddling the row of studs in his ear. "not too bad for a rookie, i'd say."

" _heh-"_ if the budget had permitted them windows, his proud flush would be on display. "thanks."

glints reflect off the stripes in her bangs, which flounce about with her stamping movements forward. "what d'ya think of our collab, kazuichi- _chaaan?!_ "

sometime between ibuki threatening to shave her anonymous lover's neck in two, and the last ripping chord of finality, kazuichi had switched his position from ragdolled over the back of his seat to leant forward, head hung and hands between thighs.

"that..." floats past his lips, folding into the thick atmosphere, "...was... _incredible!"_

his hat tips back and his face is bright against the low lighting of the room. wetness lines the charcoal around his eyes, which leon doesn't catch until he's hopped down from the stage (because cool guys don't use _stairs_ ) and plunks down in the chair next to him.

"you really think so?" he asks, nudging him with an elbow; kazuichi takes it as a sign of affability, and his alien teeth don't seem so bad when they're spread into such a wide beam.

"hell yeah i think so!" stardust melds into his cotton candy syllables. "you should come around more often! me and mioda chill in here all the time."

"yes siree! that's right!" ibuki plunges her hand down ebgdae. "kuwata-chan's now an official indoctrinated member of the super rockin' fun time club! kazubuki becomes kazubukiwata!"

leon's never felt more at home than he does right now, set in a rusted metal chair beside a shark-faced martian and watching the duchess of guro romance prance around with vibrato coursing through her plasma.

he cannot suppress the thud to his chest.

"okay, for my next ballad," ibuki proclaims, "i'm thinking about a little babymetal."

"have at it, sis," says kazuichi with all the conviction in the world, and leon's never heard of this band, but the song _headbanger_ really lives up to its title. in between her howling of the second verse, the tap to his feet finds interruption from the side of him.

"you know the guitar you were playing before?"

leon bares wide cornflower eyes to him, then nods once, and kazuichi laughs.

"not to _brag_ or anything," he brags, "but i made that."

his stare inflates again. "no shit, eh? what are you, like, ultimate fujigen gakki?"

"mechanic," comes his correction. he folds hands behind his head, and shurgs. "but, i dabble."

leon gives his best impressed guy pout, elbows to his knees as he half-watches ibuki nail the chorus. the hard truth, though- he _is_ impressed, floored, inspired. being a greasemonkey may be grunt work at times, but at least it's something _interesting._ something interesting, and necessary. and while he's not one frequent to existential crises, he thinks his life bordering on insignificant in the moment. that is, until kazuichi nudges him, and he looks up to his waiting expression and realizes he has no idea what exactly he's waiting for.

"sorry- what?"

the corner of his lip takes a tug. "i asked what got you accepted here. you know, like your talent?"

"oh," and he hopes the chagrin isn't blatant on his face. "ultimate baseball star. but, it's not really my thing these days."

kazuichi _implodes_. "that's amazing! i've always wanted to get into sports. hey- d'you think you could teach me sometime? just the basics, of course, nothing too complicated."

leon's chin tilts. his mouth circles around thoughtful surprise. "oooh-uuh, sure thing, man."

then kazuichi's arm thumps over his shoulders, and he's shaking with good humor, and leon thinks that, maybe, bonding with this new friend of his over a game of catch will be pretty fun, honestly.

kuwata leon thinks baseball's not so bad.


End file.
